Sunglasses
by Etched In Fire
Summary: 2 BLW - James "Fox" McCloud Jr has always known what he would be when he grew up- a pilot for the Cornerian Defense Force. Enrolled and at the top of his class with Bill Grey and Slippy Toad, everything was going great for Fox... until one day, when he's unexpectedly called into the headmaster's office, and given a choice that could mean giving up everything he had ever wanted.
1. The Letter

Part I: The Letter

The teacher was droning and he leaned against a curled fist, emerald eyes lazily drooping. White etchings on the blackboard did nothing to spark his interest, though he commented to himself that the professor was actually surprisingly good at drawing space crafts. "This is a typical Cornerian Fighter," the professor, a bushy-furred sheepdog tapped the depiction of the hull. " _Mark V_ , to be precise. Developed by Space Dynamics, our local fighter-building corporation."

"This is incredibly dull," Fox murmured to the green toad next to him, who was frantically sketching away a model of the fighter. In amusement and curiosity, the fox leaned over slightly, brow quirked, "That's pretty good."

" _What_ sort of laser cannon does the Cornerian Fighter Mark V contain, Mr. McCloud?" the professor huffed suddenly, "Since you seem so _keen_ on talking today."

"Dual medium… Dual medium…" Slippy was whispering frantically under his breath, fiddling with his pencil and nervously avoiding Fox's eye contact.

"Dual medium," Fox blurted, giving a small shrug. The professor looked sour, but continued on with his lecture, and Fox gave Slippy a small thumbs up. With an uncertain chuckle, the toad went back to sketching, tilting his head to either sides as he worked vigorously.

Fox leaned back in his chair, a smile about his lips as he glanced towards the clock. _Just twenty minutes left. I can handle this,_ he thought with a stretch, feeling a few joints pop back into place. _These chairs are so ridiculously stiff. It's like sitting on a rock._ He made a face and sighed, scratching behind his left ear. _It's been two weeks since Dad left,_ Fox mused to himself. _He left money, yeah, but I'd like hearing from him too._ General Pepper had hired him for… something. It had been _confidential_ , his father had said. Perhaps it had been a joke and Fox had mistaken that for the truth. _Yeah, like the Cornerian Army would need a bunch of rag-tag mercenaries to do their dirty work._

Ever since Fox had learned the difference between his father's gang and the Cornerian Defense Force, he had often scoffed at the work his dad had committed himself to. Mercenaries were largely useless in the Lylat System, unless someone was paying for the transport of illicit items. James had sworn off all such immoral work, and Fox had known better than to follow his father's lead. The Cornerian Flight Academy was a prestigious institution, one that would mold him into a better pilot. _Through boring lectures and a few flight tests, that is,_ he yawned loudly, and the doe next to him gave him a nasty, dark-eyed glare.

James had been unable to hide his disappointment when Fox had rejected his offer to join the mercenary band. The Cornerian Defense Force had been his calling since he had been a child; he couldn't recall wanting to be anything but an officer of the law. Dealing justice to criminals seemed all the more appealing than drinking cheap beer and listening to a broken-up boombox that was as old as the Lylat System itself. The McClouds had been quite poor from the lack of work around. Once, he remembered living in a house with picture frames, a sofa without holes, and in a decent part of town. But that was a lifetime ago, or so it seemed in his mind. When his mother had died, he had been around the age of five, not old enough to remember very much about her.

He feared he would forget her one day, that the name Vixy McCloud would mean nothing to him. No face would come to mind, no smell of her perfume, no bell-like laughter. She had been the driving force in the family, headstrong and certain of herself. When James had been out on jobs, she had maintained her job at the dentist office, bringing in the majority of the income to their humble household. She had died in an explosion, though Fox was never sure why or how it had happened. Part of him wasn't sure he ever wanted to know.

The golden-furred fox yawned again, covering his mouth this time. _Dad should be back this week,_ he decided. _The Mothership is old, but it's not that slow._

"Most of you are seniors here at the Academy, and so I'll tell you now that you may think you are all hot shots at flying, but there's always more to be learned," the professor prattled on. "Most tests you've passed have been easy; fly through the rings, hit the robotic planes, learn how to do various maneuvers. Unfortunately, this year, you will be tested on everything. Flying in formations. Fighting in formation. Who even knows what the formations are? Anyone? Anyone?"

Bill Grey's hand shot up, "There are a few standard flight formations…" began the gray-furred bulldog, rising from his chair in a rather professional manner. "The first is the attack formation, also known as the Delta—"

The door swung open and Slippy nearly jumped from his skin. A husky in green walked in, his face as humorous as a funeral as his mouth written in a permanent frown. "I need to see Fox McCloud," came his grave voice, so serious that Fox did not even hesitate to obey. As he rose from his chair, the husky added, "Grab your things." _You won't be coming back,_ rang in his voice, but it went unsaid. Fox cautiously tucked his notebook into his backpack, zipped it up, and tossed it over one shoulder.

"Looks like I'm getting out early," He smiled at Slippy, smugness in his eyes. "See ya later."

The husky followed him from the classroom, walking stiffly in his knee-high boots and his hands behind his back properly. No words were exchanged—the fox was too nervous to ask what had happened and the husky seemed not inclined to speak at all. The corridor was devoid of others, and the metal on the dog's boots clinked softly with each step.

 _Clink, clink, clink…_ down the hall and to the headmaster's room, up three floors and around the corner. "What am I doing here?" Fox asked, astonished as he eyed the door. "I'm… not in trouble, am I?"

"No," the husky gruffly replied, and opened the door for him.

Fox tentatively stepped in, the headmaster's desk preoccupied by a stout mastiff with drooping jowls and permanently squinted eyes. To his left, there was a hound much similar, wearing the prestigious crimson of a General. The right chair was occupied by a familiar face—a hare with brown and cream fur, his face staring holes through the desk in the room's center.

" _Peppy?_ " Fox asked, surprised, "You're here?" The hare didn't respond, his jaw clenched and his hands in tight, angry fists. _That means Dad should be back too. But… I don't get it. Where is he? Why is Peppy here of all places? They could have just called… They could have just…_ His stomach churned and suddenly a wave of uneasiness smashed its way through the last shred of confidence the fox held to.

"Take a seat, Mr. McCloud," the mastiff gestured politely, cleaning his glasses with a sleeve. "We've much to talk about." His narrow gaze moved to the hound in red, who removed his hat and sat it down before him.

"Fox, I am not sure if you remember me," the hound began anxiously.

"You're General Pepper," Fox replied, brows furrowed, "The head of the Cornerian Army." _Where's my Dad?_ It was the question on the tip of his tongue, but the very one he didn't want to voice. He fell into the chair unceremoniously, tripping over himself as he looked at Peppy, concern. _He's been crying. There's something wet by his eyes._ Dread building, he tore his gaze from the hare, and looked at General Pepper.

"Yes," the bloodhound nodded, fumbling for what to say next. Quietness reigned over the office for a moment as the headmaster began to brew some hot tea in the corner, his face grim. Finally, the General sighed, "Peppy… can you…?"

"It's what he would have wanted," Peppy's voice cracked, and the brown and cream hare forced his gaze to Fox's, lip quivering. _No…_ He was scared of what his father's friend was going to tell him. "Fox… I am so sorry." The hare trembled as though he had been locked away in a freezer.

By now, it wasn't a mystery. Perhaps it had never been a mystery. Fox felt his stomach lurch and his lunch threaten to spew itself out. He fought it back, dizzy and scared as the hare spoke, "We went to Venom. That's where we were supposed to go. There was something wrong there. There was a rumor that a rebellion was being started there. We were s-supposed to find out what was taking place…" Peppy shook his head, "We arrived. There was a man. He had risen an army—I don't know _how_ …"

"Andross," General Pepper said gravely, "A madman, sent to Venom for Corneria's safety. His experiments were cruel, catastrophic." Bitterness was heavy in his voice. "So we banished him… But it seems as though we only gave him what he wanted—his own playground to build his disturbing army. Our scanners had noticed activity on the planet over the past few months. We paired with the Cerinian Order and sent an expedition to uncover what was going on."

"It was the four of us," Peppy shook his head, eyes fraught with trauma, "James, Pigma, Randorn, and me. We went to investigate activity on Venom… Randorn noticed the temples… said there was something within- some sort of energy. So we went inside… I'll never forget it in all of my years. He was sitting on a crumbling throne, perfectly fine despite the toxicity in the air. Like he wasn't… _normal_. We made to escape the planet after he had raised the alarm. All of us were in our Arwings, and then Pigma… It was all a trap. My Arwing got stuck in a tractor beam and I..." His sentence dissolved into a sob. "Oh Jim..."

"What happened to my father?" Fox asked with a stomach full of dread.

"He's dead," Peppy whispered, tears streaming down his face, "Andross… he killed him, Fox."

There was a moment of silence in Fox's mind. Serene, peaceful silence, and he sat staring through everything around him. He didn't see the headmaster set a mug of tea in front of him and he didn't hear General Pepper trying to speak with him. There was a ringing in his pointed ears, and a stillness in his heart that drowned it all out. His hands were limp, relaxed, and the chair seemed to melt away from beneath his touch. Nothingness caressed him, and he felt as though he were falling through the quiet, his misted-over eyes unable to see the faces in front of him.

 _They're joking. Dad's the best pilot in the Lylat System,_ he told himself, waiting for his father's hand to clasp him on the shoulder and tell him everything was fine. He waited for the smell of leather and cheap cologne, for the pat on the back, for his father's _voice_. But it never came, and somewhere, he understood that it never would come.

Had it been this way when his mother had died? He couldn't remember. _Will I forget what he looks like, too?_ He thought miserably, clutching his forehead with a hand as everything spun back into focus for him. _Will I forget what he sounds like? No... No, I've known him for eighteen years…_

"Fox…" General Pepper's lips curled down in a droopy frown, "I am sorry."

"It's…" stammered the vulpine for a moment, "It's… fine…" It wasn't fine. It was far from fine. His father had been murdered in an act of war, and he was telling them it was _fine?_ The red fox gave a humorless, half-crazed chuckle, shaking his head, "I just… can't believe it." And who could blame him?  
"I know," Peppy patted his back tenderly, "I know…"

"There's a matter of your father's belongings that needs to be discussed," General Pepper sighed, "While I'm certainly not in charge of what happens to his things, I… feel partially responsible for what happened. So let me begin by saying your father took out an impressive loan to purchase a ship by the name of _the Great Fox_." _My father is dead and now you're talking about his loans and his ship?_ Would all of that fall on him now? "Interestingly enough, the wealth your father left also is quite impressive." The fox's ears went up at this. _He was dirt poor…_ "All of it is yours. The wealth is, his house, everything in it… The new mothership is a different story."

"What happened to the old Mothership?" Fox said with alarm.

"Destroyed…" Peppy said somberly.

"Give… Give the new one to Peppy, then," Fox stammered, waving it off with a careless hand.

"He's promised it to you, if you choose to lead the Star Fox Team," General Pepper continued, "And I will be compensating the bank for the loans taken out on _The Great Fox_ as a way of apologizing for your loss."

"Thanks, but I'm… enrolled at the Academy," Fox fumbled half-heartedly. "It can go to Peppy and Randorn… really, it can."

"Randorn is busy drinking himself into a hole," Peppy shook his head, "And we're not… we can't, Fox. Two pilots aren't a team."

"There are pilots _everywhere_ ," Fox disagreed. "You can… You can always find more…"

"But none are as talented as you," Peppy replied, "None have a passion for this like you. Fox… Do you really want to join the Cornerian Defense Force?"

 _Yes,_ thought Fox at first but he hesitated. _Yes, I want to guard the planet from criminals. I want to protect it in case we're invaded. I want to fly a Cornerian Fighter, be hailed as a hero… I want…_ And suddenly, he wasn't sure what he wanted. To waste his life patrolling the skies of Corneria? Suddenly, it seemed so asphyxiating, and the vulpine tore his gaze away from the others. _I want… to fly with Slippy and Bill. I want to go wherever the wind takes me._

"You talk like me being James's son is all the qualification I need to run a team of mercenaries," the words began flowing from his mouth, unchecked. Everything was a blur—Peppy's face, the cup of steaming tea in front of him, the windows of the office. He couldn't focus his eyes, no matter how hard he tried. "It's not. I'm not a leader. I just… want to attend the Academy. I want the Cornerian Fighter, the patrols… The badge, the uniform…" The _solidarity_. He wanted it to anchor his life, and yet… the very thought of being stuck on Corneria was a maddening notion. The vulpine clutched his forehead, feeling it throb with each panicked heartbeat. _I want something stable in my life because I never got to have that. He might have had all of that money, but why did we never use it? Couldn't we afford something better than the life we had?_

"I don't want to be a mercenary." His emerald eyes accusingly moved to General Pepper, "Don't you want me in your army? Why press to have me as a mercenary rather than one of your soldiers?"

The hound hesitated before he replied, "The choice is entirely yours, Fox. Between your father's will and what Peppy has told me, I thought the option would be presented. However, if you'd rather attend the Academy…" his voice trailed off, but his meaning was clear.

"That is what I want," the fox said adamantly.

"No," Peppy decided firmly, "You don't know what you want. You're hurt, you're exhausted. You need to rest and give this all some thought."

"I have no doubt that Andross means to invade the Lylat System," General Pepper said gravely, "Your father died trying to bring that information back to us. I will do my best to make sure that wasn't a meaningless effort." There was a pause. "Fox, what will _you_ do?"

He didn't remember leaving the chair, package in hand. The walk back to his dorm was a blur of Corneria's green foliage, the blue of the sky, and the perfect white of the sleek skyscrapers all around. A few Cornerian Fighters zipped overhead on patrol, but otherwise, the campus was deathly quiet, leaving him to his thoughts. By the time he reached his room, he was exhausted mentally, collapsing on his bed as he dropped his pack onto the ground carelessly. Face-down on the navy blue comforter, he breathed in the smell of fresh cotton, nestling his face into the aroma as if it could shield him from all of the bad thoughts drifting in his mind. _I don't want to think_ _,_ he thought to himself after another few moments of head-pounding contemplation. _I don't want to do anything._

Falling asleep was another blur, but it was a dreamless paradise where thought was prohibited. Slippy broke him from his safe haven, shadows crawling about the room as Lylat began to dip below the horizon. Outside was a mixture of purple and orange, though the dorm room was dimly light. Fox sat up, careful not to hit his head on the bunkbed above, and blinked away his sleepiness.

"You've been gone awhile. Is uh… everything okay?" Slippy asked him. "I didn't think I'd find you here."

His recounting of what had happened was met with silence as the toad practically fell into his desk chair, eyes wide with shock. The knot in Fox's chest tightened and loosened with each bit of the story, and yet, all the while, the green amphibian listened with utmost care. By the time Fox had finished, Slippy had cracked open a pair of Cornerian soda cans and had offered one to the distressed vulpine. He accepted gratefully, taking in a deep drink as Slippy stared soberly at his friend, thumbs fiddling with each other in his lap.

"Fox, I'm so sorry," apologized the toad after a moment, "I can't believe that happened… Your dad was the best pilot in Corneria. _Everyone_ knew that. Gosh… I… I just don't know what to say."

"You don't… really have to say anything," Fox replied, not meaning to sound so icy. He took another long drink from the can, then set it aside, on the nearby desk. "I don't… want to leave the Flight Academy, Slippy. I like it here."

"Then you don't have to go," Slippy shook his head, "I mean, no one should blame you for being so frazzled right now. And… And if they do… well, they're not really your friend."

"Thanks, bud."

"You're my best friend. You've been my best friend since you moved here."

The red vulpine smiled at him, head bobbing up and down in a nod. Slippy gave his friend a pat on the back, "Have you told Fara yet?"

Fox froze for the moment, breath caught in his throat. _Fara…_ She was three years Fox's senior, his girlfriend for the last year. They'd met when he had started at the flight academy, though she was in a division based on fighter plane repairs and test flights. He would never forget the way she looked in her greasy uniform that first day, a pen tucked behind one of her large ears and a clipboard in hand.

 _She'd be at work around this time,_ he thought to himself, but didn't voice it. _I don't want to bother her…_ But simultaneously understood her wrath if he withheld what was going on from her for too long. _I'll have to give her a call._

"No," he admitted quietly. "But I'll tell her soon." It had amazed him how quickly the words had flowed from his mouth when he had told Slippy what had transpired in the office. Perhaps it would be easy every time. _Something tells me it won't be._

His round eyes moved to the box Fox had let fall next to his backpack, and he stooped to pick it up, "What's this, huh?"

 _Right… probably something of my father's…_ Fox thought to himself, sitting down on the bed. Slippy gave it to him with a small shrug and the vulpine began to open it, "Can't believe I forgot about this…" He remarked aloud, bitterly tugging at the paper wrapped about the small box. With a tug, it came free with a nasty rip, and he let it fall to the floor.

The box was white, unstained and unbent despite how it had been dropped. He removed the lid with haste, tossing it carelessly over his shoulder. Atop the stack of papers was a set of sunglasses, jet-black and sporting wide lenses. Fox's fingers were careful as he lifted them, unfurling them and holding them up. "They look like…" Slippy began, but Fox already knew, nodding in agreement. _Just like Dad's._ He set them aside with a sigh about his lips, removing the small set of papers.

It was a copy of his father's will, which became evident as he read it. _They were right,_ mused the vulpine solemnly. _He left it all to me._ Eyes skirting through the paragraphs, he muttered, "Seven hundred-thousand Lylatian credit."

"Whaaaaaaat?" Slippy's eyes widened.

"Enough to definitely buy myself a new place to live," Fox retorted, shaking his head. "But why did he just… keep it?" The next paper detailed maintenance on _The Great Fox_ , as well as its origins. He skimmed it, put it aside quite robotically, then took the next one. There were an assortment of files the red fox sorted through—information on bank accounts, a list of emergency contacts across the Lylat System, and other boring papers Fox didn't feel like reading.

Stack of papers aside, he found himself staring into the mouth of the shallow box, emerald eyes fixated on the envelope with his name in cursive. _Dread._ Why did he feel like puking? Numbly, he plucked it from the box, clearing his throat uncomfortably, and glancing at Slippy. He was leaning over, munching on a granola bar, his cerulean eyes wide with curiosity. The toad fell back when he caught Fox's gaze, mumbling, "I… I can go if you'd like…"

"No. Stay," Fox insisted, using his thumb to tear the envelope open. There was a moment's hesitation as he withdrew the letter from its paper prison, a knot forming in his throat. Unfurling the letter, his gaze flicked to the top, ears back as the unnaturally stiff cursive of his father's handwriting greeted him.

 _Fox,_

 _If you have been given this letter, then I am probably no longer with you. Or that's what the others will say. The reality of it all is… I don't know. I don't know what's at the corners of the Lylat System just as I don't know what's beyond life itself. But I hope that my advice and my knowledge will be with you forever, as well as my memory. I am not writing this letter to dissuade you from joining the Cornerian Defense Force—I reflect on my time in the military with pride, despite what you may think._

 _I've never been as good to you as I could have. You deserved a better father than I could ever hope to be. Your mother was the real hero in the family. I hope she's not too upset with me._

 _Once, you asked me what had happened to her, and I told you the time would come for that to be addressed. I suppose if I haven't told you already, then it's time. Your mother was the victim of murder. There was a bomb. It was meant for me, but as fate would have it, your mother asked to borrow my car that day. The bomb was connected to the ignition… and when she turned it on, well… you know the rest. I wonder often what would have happened if I had said "no" to her that day. But life is too short for "What ifs", I guess._

 _You know that I have made many enemies over the years. Being a mercenary does that. It took me weeks to find who had taken her from us. I helped the Cornerian Defense Force with the investigation myself, even though they insisted I was too emotionally involved. They were able to find a man, an ape named Geralt Andross. Your mother had known him for awhile, but I'm not sure how. His motives are still unclear to me, but the investigation of her death brought other things to light—he had been performing illegal experiments and that was just the tip of the iceberg. General Pepper had him banished to Venom for it all. The guy's probably dead by now, but some days, I wonder. He hasn't made a peep in years._

 _I'm not telling you this to get reckless ideas into your head. You don't need my help for that. I told you because I thought you deserved to know that your mother was the victim of a madman and his sick games._

 _Son, I know this seems strange, that I should tell you this while… Well, while I've just passed on. I hope the money has reached you safely and that the team is unharmed. Peppy's received a letter similar to this, regarding his status as your godfather and the future of the team. Fox, I am proud of you. You're on the way to becoming a pilot that will put me to shame, and nothing makes me happier than that. I hope you choose to live a life full of peace and joy. Do what your heart tells you; trust your instincts. They'll always see you through._

 _I love you._

 _James Fox McCloud_

 _PS- Give Peppy a hug for me. He's probably beating himself up for whatever has happened._

A maelstrom of emotions swirled in his mind, and the vulpine hastily folded the letter away, moisture edging his emerald eyes.

"Fox?" asked Slippy in a quiet voice, but his friend didn't reply, stuffing the letter into the envelope. He tucked it into his jacket after throwing the navy uniform over his shoulders.

"Just gonna go for a walk," he decided aloud, words as flooded as his eyes. Slippy didn't make a move to stop him, brows furrowed with sorrow as his friend retreated to the door, letting it swing shut behind him with a thundering _slam_. Fox tried to make it out of the corridor before he erupted in tears, his entire frame shaking as he let the evening breeze hit him. It caressed his cheeks, blowing the droplets back from his eyes as he stared into the twilight, jaw clenched.


	2. The Funeral

Part II: The Funeral

The hanger was almost free from activity, but abundant in ships. Fox's military boots drummed a steady, dreaded pace down the walkway, his green eyes taking in the varied sizes of the experimental ships. _Mark VI, Cornerian Fighter,_ he thought to himself, looking over the hull of the newest project that the Cornerian Army had been working on. _It's sleeker,_ he commented, chest hollow and eyes tired. _Up-curve wings. That's new,_ he thought to himself, head tilted to the side in thought. _Green and cream? What an odd color choice._ Usually the Cornerian Army prided themselves in their blue and silver crafts. He supposed it was a flashy difference. _Maybe the painters just got bored…_ it wasn't that amusing of a thought, but he chuckled all the same.

A lurching creak announced the opening of the hanger doors, as a second Mark VI cautiously braked its way into the mouth of the building. Fox watched in curiosity as it flew, steadier than the _Mark V_ and landed smoothly at the side of the one he had been observing previously.

 _I'll be flying one of those someday_ , he told himself, but there was a flame of doubt in the back of his mind. As the jet-black cockpit doors slid open, he saw the pilot remove a green and fuchsia helmet from her head. One leg swung over the side, then the other, and Fara Phoenix hopped from the craft, landing perfectly on the walkway.

"Another perfect test run!" She exclaimed to a nearby squirrel, who was jotting stuff down on a piece of paper. "We'll have to inform General Pepper that these planes are A-okay and ready to fly at his command!"

"I'll let him know!" the assistant squirrel chittered back, after adjusting the glasses on his nose.

As Fara put her vibrant helmet aside on the nearby table, Fox stopped to admire her. She wore a light colored jacket over her bright jumpsuit, made of matching green and pink. Her boots came to her knees, and her arm was adorned by a large, silver watch. The lithe pilot tossed a look over her shoulder, her round face lit up in a smile at Fox's presence.

"Come to see me fly, huh?" Her jade eyes shone for a moment, but suddenly darkened. "Fox? Fox, what's wrong?"

He wasn't aware that his face had been so transparent. Taken aback, the vulpine scratched the back of his neck, "I… Fara…" Words couldn't come out, and so Fox stood there, sputtering like a fool. Relief washed over him as she embraced him, arms tangling themselves around his upper torso. As her head nestled into his chest, he exhaled loudly, chin resting on the top of her head. "Fara…" He tried again, but he couldn't.

She held him for a moment before breaking away, arms loosely about him as she stared up into his eyes. Her large ears swiveled back, and he studied her worriedness, relenting with a sigh. "I received a letter…" He fumbled. _No, that's not how this started out_. "I was called into the headmaster's office…" _I'm already falling to pieces…_ But as soon as he gathered his thoughts, they fell apart again. "Peppy's here. Pigma… he… I can't believe this is even happening. He said the team is mine, but I don't… I don't want it… I don't want any of this."

"Fox?" Fara's concern did nothing to help his nerves.

"We're closing the hanger in five!" someone from the back yelled, but Fara seemed not to hear them.

"What's wrong?" She asked him quietly, "Why are you shaking? What about Pigma and Peppy? What do you mean "the team"?"

"Dad's dead," Fox spilled out suddenly, shaking as he lifted his gaze to meet hers. "Dad's been killed." And suddenly, he felt the world spin, grabbing her shoulder as he clasped his forehead. _Pigma killed him._ And suddenly, he could see it now, the four Arwings flying through the red wasteland of Venom, until Pigma's blue lasers fired holes into his father's wings, until the maddened ape burst through the earth. _He killed Dad, he killed Mom,_ thought the fox, feeling warmth gather in the pits of his throat. Nauseated, he let Fara sit him down, jade irises wide with shock.

And just like that, it spilled out. Words, shaking and cracked, but still sensible. He told her everything; of the letter, of Pigma's betrayal, of what his father had wanted of him, and of Peppy's plea to join the team. The fennec stayed silent all the while, an arm around him as he finished his tale and the lights began shutting off in the hanger. "I just want to stay here," He concluded, "Star Fox isn't for me."

"Then you should stay," Fara replied, rising to her feet. She offered a hand and he accepted it. With a mighty pull, the fennec helped him to his feet. "C'mon. Let's get out of here." They fumbled through the darkness for awhile before they found the door.

Stepping out into the night air, Fox breathed in the briskness of the wind, and took a gander at the stars. "It's not that hard," Fara explained, "You just have to listen to what you want to do. You're not your father."

 _She makes it seem so easy,_ Fox thought bitterly. "I guess you're right," he agreed half-heartedly. "I can't let them pressure me into doing something I don't really want to do." She nodded in agreement and he sighed, his breath a small wisp in the cooling air. "The funeral will be in a few days." _Closed casket. There wasn't a body to recover…_ He thought to himself, but didn't voice it. "Will you go… I mean… will you go with me?"

"Of course," Fara nodded, holding onto his arm as they walked. "I'll be here for you, however you need me."

"Thank you, Fara," Fox kissed her forehead, "I… I don't know how the next few days will go."

"I'm sure your teachers will understand if you're not you're usual self. You may even be able to take a few days off from training," Fara suggested. "It might do you some good to gather your thoughts some. No one would blame you."

"No. Real soldiers don't have time to grieve. I can't take time off," Fox shook his head, "Not when there's so much to do. Flight tests. The Academy doesn't wait for anyone. The world doesn't wait for anyone."

She looked unconvinced, but Fara shrugged, "If you say so, Fox." He ignored the pessimism in her voice and walked down the street with her, the lampposts lighting their way. As a series of Cornerian Fighters zoomed overhead, he lifted his eyes upward, and watched them zip into the starry night. _Will that be me, in a year's time?_ He asked himself. _Doomed to night patrols and the occasional pursuit mission?_ It had seemed so glamorous a few days ago. The uniform had seemed so sleek, and Corneria City had seemed so vast… but now, the stars called to him.

 _I've never been conflicted about anything in my life,_ Fox thought to himself as he walked with his girlfriend. _It's always been straightforward. Join the Flight Academy. Become an officer._ But it seemed so trivial now. The wind carried his sigh as his boots clinked against the concrete sidewalk. A glance to his right, and he saw Fara, with starlight glittering in her eyes and a reassuring smile on her face. _She doesn't get it. It's not this simple._ But then again, had things ever been simple? _Maybe I've been deluding myself._ It was a fear he wasn't sure he wanted to face.

* * *

Fox stood in the front aisle, staring up at the arrangement of flowers and the black casket in their midst. A jackal in black and white stood at the podium, his voice a dull chime in the massive sanctuary of the church. To his right was Fara, who had chosen to wear a black simple dress, cut to the knee and with thin straps about the shoulders. A golden necklace and bracelet adorned her light brown fur, and her eyelids had been shaded with a pale crimson, her nails a matching color. Peppy was to his other side, in a jacket and pair of slacks. Slippy stood nearby, sniffling and wiping at his round eyes with a dampened tissue. Randorn was on the far side, brown eyes half-open and bags dragging them down into a droop, one of his hands fiddling at his bright red tie.

The vulpine scarcely listened to the words spoken of his father, instead, staring out into the nothingness of his thought. Fara's hand never left his grasp, though she squeezed it a few times to remind him that she was there. His eyes skirted to her once or twice and he gave a half-reassured smile before looking into the array of colorful flowers.

 _He probably would've sneezed because of half of these. Dad always said flowers were pretty from far away, but not so much up close._ The thought gave him a small smile, but he hid it with a hand, looking away from his girlfriend and to his polished shoes. _I ought to have been nicer to him._

Chords from the piano startled him a few moments later, the ceremony was over. He was left to shake hands of people he knew, fleeting faces and profuse apologies for his loss. Peppy clapped him on the shoulder and gave him a bearlike hug, while Fara lingered nearby, smelling of rich floral perfume. Randorn greeted Fox with a small sniffle and reeking of alcohol.

"I…" the wolf stammered, dodging eye contact. "I want you to know that I am sorry for what happened to your father."

"Randorn, it's… not your fault," Fox shook his head. _It's Pigma's. Pigma and Andross did this…_ "I don't blame you at all." The stench of alcohol made the vulpine wrinkle his nose, but he tried to give the brown wolf a small smile all the same.

"I will figure this out," Randorn said adamantly, determination in his eyes, "I will find out why this is happened, Fox. I will figure out what Andross is planning. I… I promise. I owe it to James." He hiccupped. "Pigma won't get away with this…"

"I…" Fox nodded slowly, "I understand." The lean wolf patted his shoulder and toddled off, halfway drunk or so suspected Fox McCloud.

General Pepper was next to console him, clad in his typical crimson and gold uniform, topped with a military-style hat. "Your father and I attended the Flight Academy together. I don't know if he ever told you that," rumbled the bloodhound, sorrow in his dark eyes. "He, Peppy, and I… We were quite the trio. No different from you, Slippy, and Bill, I'm certain." He chuckled, but it rang with sadness.

"Is it true that Andross killed my mother?" Fox asked the General, drawing him away with a sheltering arm from the rest of the funeral-goers. Stunned, the hound's eyes widened despite the wrinkles, and he avoided the vulpine's gaze momentarily. Feeling his heart sink, Fox cast a glance over at Fara, who raised her brows in concern, but he waved her away with his free hand.

"Where did you hear of this?" General Pepper asked Fox, graveness flooding his voice.

"From my father," Fox answered, "He left me a letter. It explained everything."

General Pepper shifted uncomfortably, "I had hoped James wouldn't divulge such information to you. But I suppose you deserve to know what happened." He drew in a deep breath, "Andross attempted to assassinate your father due to jealousy."

"Jealousy?" Fox was taken aback. "Of… _Dad?_ "

"Yes," General Pepper confirmed with a nod, "He was jealous of your father… because he was in love with Vixy. Your mother."

 _No… That can't be right._ The fox shook his head, "What? He was in love with…"

"Your mother," General Pepper finished, "But he thought that as long as James was alive, he could never have her. So he put a bomb in his hovercar, not knowing Vixy meant to borrow it for the day…" _And that was it._ Fox lowered his head, rage lacing through his veins. Hands tightening into fists, he stared at the General, imploring him for more answers.

"I tried my hardest to keep this information from James—I even prohibited him from partaking in the investigation. But James… Well, your father had a way of finding things out. When the Cornerian Police had Andross cornered, he…" General Pepper stopped himself. "He retaliated. With your father's help, we were able to banish him."

"Andross is responsible for the deaths of both of my parents," Fox remarked hollowly, eyes cast towards the black casket adorned in petals. _Does Peppy think that's enough to get me to quit the Academy?_ He dragged his gaze from the casket to the General. _Is it? Do they all expect me to take revenge?_ Pepper looked pityingly at the fox, but he said nothing to him, sighing heavily. _Do I… want revenge?_ There was a fire that burned in his chest, and he couldn't deny that it was growing. His mind was chaotic, with wishes to fly in the Defense Force, and dreams of seeing the entirety of the Lylat System. One moment, he wanted nothing more than a quiet life as an officer, with Fara at his side. The next, he thought of leaving Corneria and seeing what the stars had to offer. _I feel like I'm being torn into two._

"It's okay to hate him, Fox," General Pepper said calmly, "I do."

"I know," Fox replied, voice a whisper. As the hound's brows raised, the fox tore his gaze away, swallowing back a nauseating wave of emotion. He shook it off, blinking rapidly to ward away the moisture forming, and asked, "This Andross guy… He'll hurt more people, won't he?" It was a question Fox already knew the answer to.

The hound paused to think a moment before he spoke, sighing deeply. "Yes," General Pepper replied, "He will."

 _So do I sit in the cockpit of a Mark VI and wait for the day to come when he returns to Corneria?_ That thought held no appeal to him, and the vulpine sighed in exasperation. "There's so many things that I want…" he muttered aloud. _But none of them will cooperate with each other._

"Take your time to grieve, Fox. Take your time to think," General Pepper shook his head, "It's too early to decide the game plan."

"I can't sit still," Fox confessed, "I've always been the type of person to roll with the punches, General."

The bloodhound's lip curled into a smile beneath his hanging jowls, and a thoughtful spark flickered in his eyes. "That is true." Lightness in his voice made the fox tilt his head to the side, but the dog said nothing more of it. "Think, Fox. You have plenty of time." He retreated from the mourning son, back into the crowd, and left the red fox to think to himself.

As the attendees began to dwindle, Fox wound his way through the crowd, and towards the casket, emerald eyes shining with distress. "So…" mused the fox as he looked over the gold writing. _James Fox McCloud Sr._ , he read inwardly, shaking his head all the while. "I know what you want me to do," his voice was a whisper, almost lost in the chattering of others. _But maybe they're right. Maybe this time, I just can't jump up and keep going._ He watched a group of heavy-set bulldogs approach and to lift the casket up, readying it to be carried out. _Maybe I need to sit and think._

With impressive skill and strength, the dogs lifted the casket, and Fox watched, reminding himself that his father wasn't even in there. _It's just a symbol…_ He told himself, but the tears formed all the same. _He's already gone._ But he couldn't ignore the heart-wrenching pain as they walked away, bearing the black and gold casket between them.


	3. The Decision

Part III: The Decision

"You're failing my class," said the professor as he dropped a hefty stack of papers onto his desk. The thud woke Fox from his thoughts, his emerald eyes snapping from the ever blue skies of Corneria to the bushy haired sheepdog in front of him. Glare evident under his thick brows, the white-furred dog cleared his throat, leaned back, and folded his furry arms about his chest.

 _One month,_ thought the vulpine to himself as he swallowed, shiftily looking from the professor to the papers. The topmost one was a recent test, newly decorated with a cursive, elaborate "F" encircled by red ink. He cringed as he picked up the test, ears back as he skimmed it, trying his best to focus on the words on the page. _It's been one month since Dad died,_ thought Fox, but the numbness had not left him yet.

"You were the top of the class, McCloud," the professor went on, tutting a bit as he checked his coffee maker. He gave a sniffle before continuing, "You decided to forego the recommended grieving period of a week because you told me that you were fine."

 _He's out of line,_ thought the vulpine, fur rising on the back of his neck, but he stopped himself. _He's right, though. I did tell him I was fine._ "I _am_ fine," Fox insisted, though he kept his voice passive. "I guess I just don't get the material."

The professor's brows twitched in disbelief and he took the exam from the fox with a chain of muttered comments under his breath. Louder, he began to quote, " 'Under what laser category does the Cornerian Mark V fall under? A) single laser. B) twin laser. C) dual plasma. D) None'." He paused, looking over his rectangular glasses and said, dry as Titania's deserts, "You picked D."

Fox winced inwardly, but gave a shrug, "I guess I just… wasn't paying attention to what I was marking."

His professor looked unimpressed. "Fox, for you to pass this class, you will have to make outstanding grades on the next upcoming exams. _All of them_." As he poured himself a mug of coffee, he explained, "We are strict on who gets through this academy because we don't want people without proper discipline piloting such powerful starfighters. That leads to accidents and accidents lead to loss of life." The sheepdog gave a pause, "And I suppose lawsuits as well." A few sugar cubes were mixed in, accompanied shortly by a cup of creamer. The professor took in a sip, smacking his lips in delight.

"I'll do my best on the next exams," Fox promised hollowly.

"Good," the professor nodded, "Keep that in mind. The combat simulation test is a week from today. I would like for you to take it more seriously than you have the written exams." He took a deep drink from his mug, his white mustache stained with brown. "You're dismissed."

The vulpine walked from the office, numbed and careless, his hands shoved into the pockets of his navy blue uniform. Windows and doors were blur to him as he retreated down the hall, to the large doors that promised him freedom. The smell of the academy was starting to wear on him. The strict gazes and the sound of bugles on the hour were starting to wear on him. He thought to return to his dorm room, but he fled from the silver and white buildings that marked the flight school, winding his way down the street and kicking at a pebble the whole way.

Street signs and announcement billboards buzzed about, but he barely saw them. The air brought in fresh scents, and the rustling of leaves on the trees was a better music to him than the sounds of drill sergeants and planes taking off. It's nice to have a break from it all, he told himself, tired and run-down feeling as he collapsed into a park bench.

I _have no idea what I'm going to do about the exams,_ he thought as he stared across the greenery and trees. _I can't remember what I did yesterday. I can't remember what I did today in class._ The vulpine chuckled humorlessly. _I'm sure I could figure it out on the fly. That's how I've done things before… He rubbed his forehead. Until now. When I can't seem to focus on anything for more than five seconds._ Frustration had rooted itself into his mind. When he didn't understand something, he hated it. When it was too complicated to try to figure out, he shunned it.

He fought to remember what he did, what he had been doing for the last thirty days. But Fox couldn't remember. His memory was of the flower arrangements and black casket, not of ship categories and laser types. _Why can't I focus?_ The fox implored himself, but no answer came to mind. _This is what I want to do—I want to be an officer in the Cornerian Defense Force._ The candle flame of doubt in his mind had grown into a small torch, and he gritted his teeth in anger.

It was when he looked up that he saw the poster, flashing in red over a convenience store nearby. The moving screen depicted four faces, the first being that of a gray wolf. Adorned with a patch over one eye, he sneered ferociously in his mugshot, the name "WOLF O'DONNELL" appearing under his name. To his right was the face of a lizard, his eyes bulging on the sides of his head and his lips twisted upward in a devilish smirk. He was labeled "LEON POWALSKI". Next to the lizard was an ape, long-faced and fanged. The words "ANDREW OIKONNY" appeared under his name, and Fox's stomach twisted with recognition. _He looks like Andross._ The final face caught the fox's breath in his throat and he felt his fingers tighten on the bench's railing. Round in features, the pig's darkened eyes were narrowed in his mugshot, his smile largely blocked out by his massive snout. But Fox recognized him all the same. "PIGMA DENGAR" read the words beneath him and the vulpine bit back a growl.

The sign changed, displaying the words "STAR WOLF. BOUNTY: 50000 LYLATIAN CREDIT" before replaying the slideshow of faces. "Star Wolf," said the fox, incredulous and seething. _It's like they're mocking him and it's like they're taunting me._ Revulsion was a bitter taste in his mouth and the fox looked away, the anger burning away his distraction. His walk back to the academy was an obscure, fermenting march, brows furrowed and mouth wrought in a scowl. I can't focus on anything anymore, thought the Fox with burning realization, hands tightening into fists. _… except for one thing._

His phone was in his hand by the time he reached the edge of the Flight Academy's campus, dialing in the number he had learned as a child. As it rang in his pointed ear, Fox waited, rubbing at his chin.

"Hello?" came the tentative greeting on the other end, meek and apprehensive. It wasn't the strong, courageous voice he knew. _This has been hard on him, too._

Butterflies in stomach took flight, silencing his words momentarily. Briefly, he fought to swallow them, managing to reply, "Peppy?" Pause. "Peppy, it's Fox." _He already knows it's me. Everyone in the Lylat System has caller ID by now._ "Can we talk?" It was the only solution he could think of to escape the doldrums he had found himself in.

"Yeah," Peppy Hare replied, "Wanna meet at the 5 O'Clock Café?"

"Sure. I'll see you there," Fox said, feeling relief tingle in his toes and rise through him slowly. He clicked the "End Conversation" button, and began that way, hands in his pockets and the wind caressing his fur.

The 5 O'Clock Café was an old restaurant, small and hidden by a myriad of other shops. Most of them were antique stands and hole-in-the-wall diners. But the 5 O'Clock Café had stood there for decades, passed through at least two generations within a family of gray mice. It had been his father's favorite place to eat, and the McCloud family had frequented the café many times a month. He smiled into the breeze, nostalgia overwhelming him. _How long has it been since I've been there?_ The answer was "too long" and the vulpine stomach gave a haughty growl.

The walk there was not anything to laugh at, though Fox barely seemed to notice time go by as he made his way through the convoluted Cornerian streets. A few airbuses zipped by, stirring up wind that made the tail of his academy jacket dance about wildly. He covered his eyes to shield them from dust as a hovercar dashed near him. Somewhere, a blaring horn resounded as two vehicles almost collided. _This is the life of a city,_ he thought to himself. _Crowded, conflict everywhere. But there's some good things about it, too._ The flashing billboards displayed the mugshots of Star Wolf once more, and Fox found himself unable to look, observing the sidewalk instead.

Moments later, and he was standing in the heart of nostalgia, the chipped pastel blue paint the very same as it had been when he was younger. _It hasn't changed at all_ , thought the fox to himself, a smile about his lips. _Even though everything's so new looking in this city, this place is timeless._ When he pushed open the door to the café, a small bell rang and a waitress was immediately there to greet him. "Hi, welcome to the 5 O'Clock Café," the voluptuous mice maid said, a black dress about her torso, laced with white. She looked at him over her perfect square glasses, as if trying to determine if she knew him. "How many?" the waitress gave up after a moment, plucking a menu from the stand for him.

"I'm meeting somewhere here…" Fox began, scanning the heads in the café. He spied Peppy near the corner, fumbling with a menu and his glasses all at once.

Fox slid into the booth, seating himself across from the hare. Peppy lowered the menu, careful not to bump his mug of coffee. "Good afternoon," he said, glancing up. "You look… tired."

"I am," Fox nodded and ordered a soda from the waitress. As she scurried off to go fill up a glass, he sighed, snuggling into the booth deeper. "I'm… really tired."

Peppy nodded, looking him over. _His eyes are drooping,_ the vulpine noticed silently. _He doesn't look so awake himself. And no wonder—after what happened on Venom, it must be hard for him to sleep._ He couldn't imagine how the events had gone—when Peppy had offered to give him details of the story, Fox had declined. Some things were just better unsaid. But the unknown toyed with his imagination and he found himself wondering at night. Had it been swift? He hoped so. Had Peppy even seen it happen? He hoped not. But he couldn't find it in him to ask.

"I saw the bounty today," Fox McCloud began, thanking the waitress as she brought him his drink. He watched her depart to greet another set of customers before he continued, "The one for Star _Wolf_." His gaze shifted to see the hare's reaction.

"I asked Pepper about it," Peppy said grimly, "When we went… you know, to Venom…" His voice became a ghost, but he regained his strength momentarily, "These guys weren't there. I don't know, I guess Andross has hired them recently. The other three, I mean." _He's had Pigma in his pocket for awhile, I would imagine,_ Fox thought bitterly, but let Peppy say his piece, "Don't know much about these guys. I've heard they're rough. Andross's personal lackeys."

"I see…" Fox sighed, rubbing his forehead.

"Something from the kitchen, dears?" the mouse came back, pen and paper in hand.

"I'll take the country fried steak," Fox said. "White gravy. Mashed potatoes for the side."

"I'll take the pancake deluxe," Peppy added, folding his menu up and handing it to her. She jotted the order down, took the menus, and abruptly vanished back into the kitchen. With the kitchen doors still swinging, Peppy's eyes moved back to Fox, and he gave a sigh as well. "So, why did you want to talk, Fox?" He asked, "Was it… just about the posters?"

"They got me thinking, I guess," Fox answered, heaviness in his chest. _I feel like I'm stuck in limbo. I move, I eat, I go to class. I forget everything that's happened by the time I go back to bed. I can't get this out of my mind. I can't get what's happened out of my mind._ He hated feeling so useless and trapped. He hated the ghosts in his mind and the anger burning in his chest. "Peppy… I'm failing my classes. I'm going to fail my senior year if I don't pull a miracle out of a hat." The confession was hard to say, but once the words were out in the air, he found that he couldn't stop. "I can't focus on anything. Flight training. Lectures. I can't remember anything from my classes… It's like I'm somewhere else mentally. And it's driving me nuts."

"Did you take time off?" Peppy asked him, concern flooding his voice.

"No," Fox admitting, abashed and unable to meet the hare's eyes.

"Ah," Peppy nodded with a frown, "Fox, I am not your father. Why your dad put me as your godfather, I'll never understand. I never thought I was cut out for raising kids. Not even after Vivian had Lucy." He chuckled, looking at his mug, "Vivian's the true parent between the two of us. Lucy's a good girl, and I'd like to say that was my doing. But Vivian did most of it, I think."

"How is she?" Fox asked, remembering that Peppy's wife had been diagnosed with cancer a few months back. The brown hare's eyes glistened, as he looked up at the vulpine, and Fox felt a stone of dread sink into his stomach.

"She'll be fine," Peppy said, but it was a hollow statement.

"How's Lucy taking it? We don't see each other very much on campus."

"She's been strong. She's always been strong, though. Says she's thinking about pursing a more science-based degree at the academy. The girl's got a knack for astrophysics, I tell you. She could go a long way at Space Dynamics," Peppy smiled fleetingly, but his face grew serious, "Fox, as your godfather, I would suggest that you take some time off to gather your thoughts. There's rules for suspending one's training in the Flight Academy. People have done it before. You could go back when you're ready."

"That's the problem," Fox shook his head, "I don't want to sit still. I can hardly stand being in lectures, or doing those monotonous training exercises. Taking a bit of time off… that would drive me insane, Peppy. I need to do something."

"Do… what?" Peppy asked him slowly, brows raised.

 _What am I thinking?_ Fox asked himself in that moment, heartbeats quickening. _I used to have it made. I used to be the top of the class._ Bitterness, anxiety, and fear gripped him tightly in a vice, and a deluge of thoughts overtook him. _Andross killed my parents. He'll kill more people._ Panic. Uncertainty. _What if I have to face him? If Dad can't do it…_ He thought to stand up and leave. He thought to shake his head and say "never mind". Fox thought about returning to the boring lectures that he couldn't remember and he thought about his uniform. He thought about Fara and what she would say, and his stomach twisted itself into a knot.

 _I can't just drop everything for some vengeance mission._

But then, he stopped, and realized, his tense arms going limp with sudden relief.

 _I can._

Because nothing was worse than the dazed limbo he was existing in. When was the last time that he had told Fara that he loved her? _Did_ he love her? Numbness resided in his chest and nothing else. _I don't even think I want the fancy Mark V and the badge and the uniform._ He thought to himself, chuckling inwardly. _I can't summon up enough care to want to work for it. No, maybe I don't care about that after all._ The only thing that brought a fire to his eyes was the thought of trying to pick up where his father left off. He wanted to bring Pigma to justice himself, not rely on the Cornerian Army to do so. He wanted to put Andross's insurrection down. He wanted to see his mother and his father rest in peace at last.

"Fox?" Peppy prompted.

"I'm going to drop out of the Flight Academy," Fox heard himself say the words, but they seemed so alien to him. "I want… to assemble the Star Fox team."

Peppy leaned back in his section of the booth, and nodded, head bobbing up and down for a few moments before he spoke, "You're sure?" He asked Fox, not breaking eye contact with him. "Because once you do this… things are going to be way different."

"I'm not sure," Fox admitted, "But I know I can't keep going like this. I've gotta do something, Peppy." _This is the only solution I can think of. And something about it just feels… right._

"Then you'd best get in touch with the headmaster. And pack your things," Peppy said, "The Great Fox is located at the Marshall Hanger, on the east side of town. We'll be living out of there for awhile."

"Are we going to Papetoon?" Fox asked him.

"We've got to teach you how to fly an Arwing before we can join the fight against Andross," Peppy smiled mysteriously, "I'll try to locate Randorn. He's probably off drinking himself to death in some obscure corner."

"Got it," Fox smiled, feeling the weight that had been settled in his chest for weeks lift gradually. He breathed, the smell of country fried steak filling his nose as the waitress delivered their order and bade them to enjoy their meal.

* * *

"You're LEAVING?" Slippy asked him incredulously, nearly falling out of his chair.

"Yeah," Fox answered. For some reason, he had thought it would be hard to tell his friends about his plan. But the words came out clearly, and for the first time since he had found out about his father's death, Fox felt truly at peace.

In all honesty, when Peppy had advised he look for more pilots, Fox had been unsure of who to turn to. James had flown with three wingmates—that seemed like a good enough number, but Fox had too many candidates on his mind to just pick two others. Slippy was a given—he was an earnest, kind person with possibly the highest IQ in the entire academy. Fara came next—more experienced than even Fox himself with a passion for adventure and a love for Corneria. Bill had been the next choice—a good enough friend, though a rival at times when it came to exams. With Peppy and Randorn to guide them, Fox was certain they could make a great team.

"I had a feeling that was why you called us here," Fara said from where she sat on his bed, her legs crossed and her chin propped up by a curled fist. She did not sound excited… but he could not hear any sort of disappointment in her voice.

"Well, I'm not… not done yet," Fox continued, scratching the back of his neck. "I've already withdrawn from the Academy, so that much has already been done. But…"

"You want us to help you pack?" Fara asked with raised brows.

"Well, if you want to," Fox said with a small shrug, "But I was going to ask if you…" Suddenly the difficulty of the whole situation weighed down on him, choking up his throat and causing his words to perish on his tongue. Was he really going to ask them to drop everything to join his revenge campaign? Peppy's words rang into his ears… and he struggled to find the right thing to say.

"Well, out with it," Fara prompted him.

"I want you guys to come with me," Fox blurted.

"What?" Slippy stared at him.

"Fox…" Fara's expression softened.

"I know, you guys enrolled here to become members of the CDF, but…" Fox began. Guilt was drowning him in a tidal wave, but he couldn't take back his words now. He knew they had spent the money to make it this far, they had spent time studying and becoming skilled pilots. But he couldn't change how he felt—if he left, he wanted them to come with him. If he were to go to Papetoon, he knew who he wanted to be there too. If he were to fight Andross on Venom, he knew who he wanted to his left and right.

"I'll go," Slippy said without a flicker of doubt in his voice.

"Y-you will?" Fox asked. _Good ol' Slip… Never bats an eye at anything._ "Slippy… thanks."

"Let's… not get ahead of ourselves," Fara cut in. She gave him a long look, her dark green eyes filled with emotion. He could almost see the thoughts buzzing around her mind, so clustered together she was not sure which one to address first. "Fox, are you sure this is what you want? When we talked last time about this, you didn't think you wanted to do this…"

"Fara, I've never been so sure about anything in my life," Fox insisted, and the fennec eyed him with more contemplation.

"I would like to go with you," Fara said with a small nod, but there was hesitation in her voice and she looked down, "But I can't."

"Why not?" Fox sputtered.

"Are you really asking that?" Bill spoke up for the first time, shaking his head at Fox. "Fox come on, man…"

"The Cornerian Army and the Cornerian Defense Force are both relying on me. If Andross is going to invade Corneria… well, we will need our ships to be in top shape. We may need to even recall our current ones to add better equipment… and guess who gets to test each and every prototype out?" Fara sounded glum. "If I were to leave… well…"

"They can get someone else to do it, right?" Fox suggested quickly.

"With this short notice? Finding a pilot that's got all their credentials, certifications…" Fara sighed. "Decent test-pilots aren't too common. Besides, it's a position in the army, Fox. I'd… be abandoning my post. You guys haven't graduated yet, but I have…"

 _I never thought about it like that._

"I'm sorry, Fara. I guess I didn't think about that," Fox sighed. "I really wish you could come with us."

"As do I," she reached up to his cheek with a hand, petting it softly. "But we all have our parts to play." But as his eyes met hers, he could see her fear and she recoiled, looking away from him.

"I don't want anything to happen to you."

Her confession blotted out anything else that might have been said in that moment. Fox mulled over it for a moment, grim dread twisting knots in his throat and stomach. _She means she doesn't want to sit through another funeral._ The vulpine found himself speechless once more and decided to stare holes through the place on the floor where he and Slippy had casually thrown down a small mat to wipe off their shoes by the door. _She means she's scared I'll end up like Dad._ Pause. _Like Mom. Dead at the hands of a madman._ And he could not guarantee her that would not happen. He could not guarantee Slippy that would not happen to either of them. But he knew Slippy knew that—whether or not it had dawned on him yet was another story.

"I know," Fox said to her, calm and tender as he could muster with his flitting heartbeat.

"Do you?" Fara asked him, a seething aura of accusation in her voice. But she remembered herself suddenly, and averted his gaze. "Just promise me you'll be safe if you go."

"Of course," Fox said. _I'll be as safe as I can be. I don't have any plans to make this into a suicide run._

"I'll be cheering you from here," Fara said with a weak smile.

Bill kept his silence, musing over his own thoughts. Fox was grateful the bulldog was giving it some thought at least. Not having Fara able to join stung more than he would have liked to admit, but he understood her reasoning… He also understood her father, who held a decent reputation, likely did not want his daughter running off to become a mercenary.

"Fox, I have to give you credit," Bill said finally, rubbing his chin. "Look, I don't know how you've managed these last few weeks. If that… If my dad had…" He fumbled, but Fox got his meaning so he skipped over it. "… I'd have left as soon as I could've. But you stayed… You stayed because you're a smart guy. You don't do things based on emotion alone- you think! I'd love to join a team led by you."

"Then you'll come?" Fox asked, ears perked.

"I would… if I hadn't already been interviewed by the Cornerian Army-14th Platoon. I'm due to ship out to Katina next month after graduation," Bill said sheepishly.

"I… wow, that's great, Bill!" Fox said with a half-smile. _Well, this isn't quite what I had hoped for, but…_ "I didn't know you were applying for the colonies."

"I've lived in Corneria my whole life. I thought it was time I saw other places. The Lylat System is big, y'know…" Bill replied, but frowned. "I mean, don't get me wrong—I think I'm meant for army life… but part of me will be sad I don't get to go with you."

"It's okay," Fox chuckled. "You guys have plans for your future. I have plans for mine. I doubt this is the last time we'll see each other anyways." _Who knows if I'll even stay a mercenary. I could just re-enroll when this is all done…_

"I'm sorry I can't go with you, Fox. It does seem like fun…" Bill let his voice trail off. "And I'll miss smashing your scores on the flight exams."

"Ha! I don't remember that ever happening!" Fox shot back with a grin.

"I'm gonna miss this place…" Slippy gave a sentimental sniff. "And you guys." He looked at Fara and Bill woefully. "We'll have to all keep in touch, okay?"

"Of course," Fara smiled at him, patting his head gently. Fox was certain he could see tears glistening in her eyes, but she dared not let one slip away.

Fox spent the rest of the day cleaning out his dormitory. Slippy and Fara stayed to help him out for awhile, but after some time, Fara had to leave for work. She gave Fox a kiss on the forehead before she left, whispering in his ear, "I love you." He didn't know why but it made him feel even more guilty as he boxed his personal items.

"Peppy's coming by in an hour to help me get this moved," Fox said to Slippy after awhile. The toad had turned on the radio since neither one of them felt like talking. Fox hadn't minded it at all—he let himself get lost in the music as he packed. When he opened the drawer near his desk, he saw the white box from before and swallowed back a lump of sorrow that bobbed his throat.

 _You said not to go after Andross. Well, sorry Dad… I can't listen to you. Not when everyone needs me to do this. Not when I need for me to do this…_

He opened it one last time, looking at its contents with pensive thought before removing the pair of sunglasses. _I wonder…_ His arms moved automatically to his face, sliding the shades into place and glancing over at where Slippy had become mesmerized by his actions.

"So…" Fox began. "How do I look?"

"A-awesome!" Slippy exclaimed and the vulpine gave a laugh.

Fox wore them all the way to front of the dormitory, despite himself. The sun marked the lateness in the day, almost to its descent below the horizon. Puffy clouds scattered the ever blue sky and a patrol of green-trimmed planes zipped overhead, marked by the CDF logo. He smiled, knowing it was another life in which he would have flown with them—a life in which his father would have been there to see him graduate.

 _It's a beautiful day to drop everything you were ever planning and become something you never thought you'd be…_

"Fox…" Peppy said as he got out of his hovercar, parked smoothly near the curb. His bottom lip gave a small quiver.

"Oh…" Fox realized he was still wearing the sunglasses and made to take them off but Peppy stopped him.

"No… Don't. You look great," Peppy smiled at him, tears in the corners of his eyes. "He'd be proud."

They loaded the hovercar, and Peppy gave Slippy a small hug before they all climbed in. The radio was on a low volume, playing old rock songs that Fox remembered his dad used to jam to, often pretending like he was playing the notes with an air guitar. It made him smile as he cast his gaze out at Corneria City. _Soon I'll be out of this place. It's been a great home, but Papetoon calls, I guess…_ His memories of Papetoon were not unpleasant, but he had found Corneria to be a more welcoming home.

"So did you find Randorn?" Fox asked him.

"I did. He went back to Cerinia, said he had something to report to his higher ups there," Peppy replied with a sigh. "He won't be coming with us. He said that if he's right then his order may have to get involved with whatever is happening on Venom…"

"So he's out… that leaves… us three," Fox sighed.

"Fara and Bill aren't coming?" Peppy asked with alarm.

"Afraid not," Fox answered sullenly.

"And I just had a talk with Lucy as to all the reasons she's not coming with us. That does put us at a disadvantage…" Peppy frowned. "Well, I'll keep an eye out for reputable, skilled pilots. There has to be more around the city. This is the central hub for all Lylatian pilots after all."

"Yeah, we'll just have to look a bit harder, I guess," Fox replied with some thought.

 _I guess Peppy never said it'd be easy._

The fading sunlight filtered between the skyscrapers of Corneria City, brushing through the trees and the perfectly scoped gardens. There was a certain beauty in the white buildings and huge screens decorating the thicker parts of the city. He would miss it, but there was an eagerness growing in his heart, burning until it became a wildfire. _This is really happening…_ He watched the academy vanish behind them, swallowed by the city's scenery. There was a sense of nostalgia in his chest, wavering then dissipating into his excitement. If there was any fear, he had swallowed it a long time ago.

 _My name is James "Fox" McCloud Jr. And I'm about to become Star Fox's new leader._


End file.
